


Shelter

by Serenade



Category: Seafort Saga - David Feintuch
Genre: Fever, M/M, Wilderness, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenade/pseuds/Serenade
Summary: Nick and Tolliver spend a night in the wilderness.





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kangeiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/gifts).



"That's never going to catch fire," Tolliver said. "No matter how hard you glare at it."

I ignored him and continued to labour over the pile of kindling. After a quarter of an hour, I finally had to acknowledge my failure. The wood was simply too damp to burn.

The storm had washed out the road. While my caller still worked, there was no chance of help till morning. Through the latticed branches of our makeshift shelter, I stared out at the dripping rain. The forests of Hope Nation were a wilderness that could swallow a man and leave his bones to moulder. Somewhere in its depths lay the shattered remnants of meteorites and the decayed corpses of fish. And yet there was a verdant beauty amid the deadliness: lush greenery and crystal streams, like some lost paradise.

"Come over here," Tolliver said. "We should conserve body heat."

Grudgingly, I settled down beside him--then looked up sharply. He wasn't joking. His skin was like a furnace. We had both been drenched. But Tolliver had been the one to bear the brunt of it, returning to the bogged car for emergency supplies.

"You need to get your clothes off," I said. Wet clothing was worse than none, and we had the blanket from the first aid kit.

Tolliver arched an eyebrow. "Really, now? You couldn't wait until--" A burst of coughing cut him short.

I growled in frustration and went to help him.

***

The rain stopped, but the silence was worse, punctuated by Tolliver's sporadic coughing. I touched his forehead. His temperature was still too high. It could be a fever that burned out overnight. It could be a chill that turned into pneumonia.

"Nick?" he said, surfacing from fitful sleep.

"I'm here," I answered.

I dampened the cloth again and wiped the sweat from his face. I knew only the rudiments of nursing. I was ill equipped for the role of caretaker. But there was no one else here, so it had to be me. Even if I was better at dealing out death than at saving a life.

Did he know how much I relied on him? For his endless support, his dry wisdom, even his acerbic tongue? Haltingly, I tried to explain, as though my voice could be a lifeline to keep him anchored to this world. No, tell the truth. Anchored to me. Because I needed him, and more than that, I wanted him. Here with me.

I stayed up beside him, watching and waiting until the fever broke.

***

I woke to sunlight through the branches of our shelter. Tolliver lay beside me, propped up on one elbow, looking down at me with mild exasperation.

"You're awake!" I rasped. I sat up slowly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've run a marathon through a swamp." He added, with an ironic smile, "Thank you for last night. It means a lot to me."

Surely he didn't mean just nursing his fever. I wondered what I might have said, in my exhaustion and desperation. That long night seemed like a blend of dream and memory and vision.

He pursed his lips. "And what about you? Have you been drinking enough water for your fever?"

"What fever?" I said blankly.

Tolliver sighed. "You're not immune to the elements, you know." He touched my forehead with a cool hand. I became aware of the sheen of sweat on my brow, the unnatural warmth of my skin. My throat was dry and it hurt to swallow. I had thought I was choked with suppressed emotion. But maybe it was viral inflammation.

"Lie down and I'll get you some water." He patted the blanket.

I settled down, gratefully, secure in the knowledge that Tolliver was watching over me.


End file.
